


Suptober Day 13: Ladies

by tiamatv



Series: Promptober 2020 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Author!Castiel, Domesticity, F/F, Fireman!Dean, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Sheriff Partners Donna and Jody, Sweet Dean Winchester, suburban life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv
Summary: “Marry me,” Donna tells him, taking another cookie with a moan that, well, Jody would say she ought not to be making those noises in public. Except Jody’s pretty sure she made one of her own when she took her first bite. The chocolate’s still warm.“Well, now,” Dean drawls, leaning one hip against the countertop with his jeans-clad legs crossed at the ankle, looking between them. “That’s so tempting, but Jody here carries a gun.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills
Series: Promptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954990
Comments: 60
Kudos: 340
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Suptober Day 13: Ladies

**Author's Note:**

> Just a neighbor AU that... well, let's just say I sat down to write this, got called into a work emergency, and then spent an hour sort of slapping this out at about 2 AM. Please don't expect coherence! I may have to update it or something at some point.

Dean Winchester is one of the best-looking men Jody’s ever seen, and she doesn’t trust good-looking men.

He couldn’t be any bit less like Millicent, who finally sold the house when she moved down to Florida, if he tried. Jody expected another middle-aged couple or an empty nester, since the little one-and-a-half bath at the tip of the cul de sac is a little too small for a family, but no, they got Dean, instead.

He’s a fireman—they found about _that_ from every squealing girlie in the town meeting even before he moved in. The trim little house with the flower box next door isn’t what Jody would have thought of as a bachelor pad, but as far as they can tell, it’s just him. He drives a beautiful muscle car that he calls Baby. Jody wonders how long it’s going to take someone from the HOA to come knockin’ about the overgrown lawn (they’d let it slide for Millicent) but he’s out with a lawn mower within a week of moving in.

It’s a manual, and he has his flannel sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the buttons undone, just a white undershirt underneath. All of a sudden half the horny housewives who are normally just peeping out of their windows at everyone else’s business are finding a reason to be working on their lawns, too. Jody’s got good reason to know that Pamela Barnes has never, in the years that they’ve lived here, ever been seen weeding the garden before.

Jody knows she gave Dean the stink eye when he first cruised in, rock music blazing out the open window of his big black classic, and she wasn’t inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt when he just winked at her and waggled his fingers in her direction. She thinks he’ll change his tune when he sees Donna in her uniform, anyway.

Instead, he shakes her hand firmly, looking between the two of them and grinning. “Living next to _two_ officers of the law?” he laughs, green eyes sparkling in a way that even Jody can admit is pretty darned fetching. Good thing she’s immune to pretty men. Right. “I feel safer already.”

Jody’s eyes narrow. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he agrees, firmly. “I used to live next door to two lawyers.”

All three of them shudder, as one, and that’s when Jody thinks he might actually be okay.

Yeah, Dean’s sociable, and so charming he makes her teeth grit sometimes. But he’s sweet.

(Well, he’s sweet in the way Jody considers men sweet, anyway.)

That is to say, he’s a cocky asshole who needs to climb a few pegs down the ladder, but his heart is very big and very much in the right place. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t slam the front door and disturb them next door when he gets in late after a 24, and makes a double batch of chocolate cookies and pretends he did it by accident when he brings a plate of them over to share.

(They are really _damned_ good cookies, though.)

“Marry me,” Donna tells him, taking another with a moan that, well, Jody would say she ought not to be making those noises in public. Except Jody’s pretty sure she made one of her own when she took her first bite. The chocolate’s still _warm_.

“Well, now,” Dean drawls, leaning one hip against the countertop with his jeans-clad legs crossed at the ankle, looking between them. “That’s so tempting, but Jody here carries a gun.”

And he smiles, sweet and warm.

That’s how he lets them know that he knows.

Jody’s aware what some of their neighbors think of them, two ladies of a certain age living together the way they are—do they think she’s deaf? Or that _Alex_ is? Alex goes to high school with their kids—but they’ve been living here five years, now. And for all the sidelong glances and sneaky little rubs of innuendo that both she and Donna ignore, no-one’s ever out and _asked._

Neither did Dean, not really. But this is how he’s letting them know he’s fine with it. Whatever ‘it’ is.

Since that’s _so_ much more than Jody ever expected to suddenly hear from their very butch, flannel-wearing new guy neighbor in their little corner of rural South Dakota, she doesn’t know if she wants to gasp or laugh or cry.

Instead, Jody answers, crossing her arms, “You think I need a _gun_ to flatten you, boy?”

Dean grabs up the plate of cookies—Donna makes a small, dying noise—and brandishes it in front of him. “I have cookies, Sheriff Mills, and I ain’t afraid to use them!” he announces.

He’s still kind of a stranger, but in that moment, that’s when Jody Mills knows they’re going to be friends for life.

Dean couldn’t possibly be one iota _less_ like the neighbor they have on the other side of them.

“Castiel’s not… _unfriendly,_ Jodes,” Donna defends him, staunchly. Because Donna still thinks the best of people. Even when people are, well, _Doug,_ but that’s water under the bridge by now. “He’s just a little shy.”

Jody snorts. Saying that Castiel is shy is like saying that acid is wet or that there are no ghosts in the Sherman Park burial mounds: it _could_ be true, or it could just be really optimistic and probably not matter anyway. He’s never been to a single barbecue or HOA association meeting or fundraiser. He _hires_ someone to take care of his lawn and trim the hedges, which in this part of the suburbs is something a person only does when they want to show off that they _can_ hire someone to do it.

“Donna,” Jody sighs, “do you remember what he said when you tried to bring him over a casserole?” _Not_ that Jody thinks that Donna’s housewarming casseroles are good. They’re not, not really. But most people are still happy to take them. And no-one’s had the heart to tell her that they’re… not good.

Including Jody, and she’s been choking down the leftovers that don’t go into the casserole dish for nearly a decade now, so that’s probably her own fault.

Donna pouts out her lower lip with a hmph. “Well, maybe he’s shy with _food allergies_.” Her blue eyes go wide, and her soft mouth pouts outwards in a look of delight that Jody already knows she’s going to either really love, or really regret. “You know? We should set them up!”

Okay, that escalated quickly.

“What?” Jody sputters. “You don’t even know if Dean’s gay.” Donna might have been reading a few too many of those fireman stories online lately. Jody’s been enjoying that she has, but maybe she should have put a stop to it earlier. “Or that _Castiel_ is!”

“If you mean the guy next door, he prob’ly is, he hung out a tiny little rainbow flag on the wind chimes he has out front last June,” Alex answers, promptly, without looking up from where she’s stirring her cereal with one hand and examining her phone with the other. “I saw it when I was walking from the bus stop.”

Jody doesn’t know how or why their daughter decided to get involved in this very silly conversation, but considering that she thinks it’s been a week since either of them heard Alex talk on anything but the phone, she’ll take it.

Teenagers.

Huh. “Maybe he was just being supportive,” Jody protests. “Of, you know, us.”

Alex actually glances up from her phone and crunches a mouthful, loudly. Donna’s disbelieving glance kind of looks like an angry marmalade kitten.

Okay, even Jody admits that _that_ , from a neighbor who’s so shut-in that she can count on one hand the number of times she’s even seen him coming out to get his mail, is not exactly believable. She knows he lives there, but they’ve never been introduced, and frankly? After the way he treated Donna, she didn’t have much interest in getting to know him.

On the one hand, now she really wonders why in the world a gay guy would settle in _this_ neighborhood.

On the other hand, _they_ settled here, so…

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be such a spoilsport. Just look at Dean. He’s just the darlingest little thing, isn’t he?” Donna wheedles, waving a hand in the direction of what is approximately Dean’s house. Neither Jody nor Alex try and point out that Dean’s a lot bigger than all of them. “We should introduce ‘em. Maybe Castiel just needs, you know, the masculine touch. Bring him out of his shell some, y’know? They’d be cute as newborn foals.”

“And just about as clumsy,” Alex mutters, ducking her chin towards her cereal bowl and wrapping an arm around it like it’s going to protect her from this conversation.

Well, Jody can’t argue with that. Any of that. She sighs and pushes peeled apple slices in Alex’s direction. “Phone down, fork up, you’re going to be late.”

They really need to find Donna a hobby.

But it’s about a month later that it happens. Dean’s better than State Farm for being a good neighbor—he even picks up Alex one day when she misses the bus and both Jody and Donna are out on calls, and plays his old rock music the whole way home. (Alex complains about it from the moment she stomps through the door, and about an hour later there’s a new album purchase on her iTunes account. _Teenagers._ ) 

So when Jody sees him at the door, shifting from foot to foot, she doesn’t hesitate to open. (Doesn’t hurt that he normally brings food. One time, she asked why he always seems to make so much, more than any one person could eat: turns out those lawyers he lived next to were his brother and his sister-in-law. So Dean’s part shark after all.)

He's got a cute, sheepish smile on, though, and an _apron_ , God love him, splattered with tomato drippings. (It says “Meat Master” on it. Jody’s eyes roll up so high she almost loses sight of him.)

“I know this is weird, but… I don’t need a cup of sugar or anything, but d’you have any cumin?” Dean asks, hopefully. “I thought I had enough—I’m making chili and it’s already on the stove—but turns out I didn’t. I’ll trade you for dinner?”

Homemade chili, huh? Jody likes him better and better. “Nah,” she answers, regretfully. “We normally just use the chili powder mix packs, sorry.”

Dean sighs and twirls his keys around his finger, but he nods. “Damn. Okay—you guys need anything from the store, since I’m gonna head over?”

Jody feels her heart melt just a _little_ bit. Yeah, Dean’s really sweet.

Just behind Jody’s back, Donna chirps, “Hey, why don’t you ask Castiel? I think he likes to cook.”

Jody frowns over her shoulder, but Donna ignores her, grinning all sunny-like. As usual.

“Castiel?” Dean looks around like he thinks they’ve got someone else stashed in the house. “Who?”

“Oh, _sure_ , yeah, our next door neighbor!” Donna continues, cheerfully, jerking a thumb in the direction of the rigidly manicured lawn next door. “He’s a real cutie. I hear he likes to cook.”

What? What in the _world_ is Donna doing?

“Oh, great! Well, thanks!” Dean says, cheerfully, and he’s turning and striding across the lawn before Jody can call that for the _utter bullshit_ that it is.

Donna—as usual—looks like she doesn’t regret a thing in life, and there’s nothing Jody could possibly say that could make her. It’s a great look on her. It’s also incredibly annoying at times.

“What do you _mean_ he likes to cook?” Jody demands in a hiss, pushing the door closed with her foot. “How do you know that?”

Donna raises her chin. “Well, he _could,_ you don’t know that he doesn’t!” Her grin flashes, white and excited. Jody’s partner does the next closest thing from tossing her blond hair. “I’m gonna go watch from the living room window, you wanna come?”

“ _No_ ,” Jody says, firmly. No, she is _not_ going to be one of those weird suburban ladies who’s always so tied up in what their neighbors are doing, it’s not like she feels at all _responsible_ for not stopping Dean—and it’s completely innocent anyway, he’s just going to ask about some spices, so it's not like—“Oh, wait, I gotta get my case reports from—”

“Whatever you say, honeybun,” Donna chirps, already heading down the hallway at a good clip.

Donna’s optimism is going to be the death of Jody one day, and there’s a good chance she’s going to go to her grave smiling.

So she shouldn’t even be surprised that Donna throws herself onto the sofa with an excited squeal and starts working on the window just as Dean jogs up onto Castiel’s little porch.

Jody really does have case files to gather up. She really does. That was the only reason…

But she _likes_ Dean.

“Now you’re going to make me feel _bad_ if Castiel’s mean to him, and it wasn’t even my fault!” Jody complains at a hiss, but she gets onto her knees on the couch cushions beside Donna and leans onto the back of it with her elbows, helping her get the sash up without it squeaking.

Castiel’s house is bigger than Dean’s—same layout as their place, a two-bedroom with a living and study, if she’d bet—but he’s never put any color on the eaves. No wreathes for Christmas, palms for Palm Sunday, and sure as heck no Halloween decorations. The only decoration that they’ve ever seen outside is the small metal wind chime hanging over the doorway, but Dean reaches up and sets it tinkling with a little smile before he rings the doorbell.

Both she _and_ Donna seem to be holding their breath as the door eases open—a crack, then the rest of the way. Castiel steps out into the doorway, letting the door swing behind him, and Jody’s eyebrows rise.

She’d only seen a glimpse of him before, to be honest, and he keeps his shoulders and chin down and he always seems to be wearing a big brown coat over what looks like sweatpants. But it _wasn’t_ just Donna’s rose-colored glasses on high-beams when she calls him a cutie—he is. He’s wearing sweatpants that are too big for him with some kind of pattern on them and a long-sleeved t-shirt like it’s not early evening on a work day, His dark hair’s all over the place, and his eyes droop sadly at the corners.

He’s not Jody’s type, sure, she’s got nothing against grumpy but brooding isn’t her style—case in point, ray of sunshine next to her. But he has a deep dimple on his chin and a full pink mouth that’s bigger through the top lip than the bottom, and he’s squinting at Dean like he’s misplaced his glasses.

They are, she admits, _very_ pretty standing staring at each other like that.

“O- _kay_ ,” Jody admits, at a whisper.

“Heheh,” agrees Donna.

Even from here—even from _next door_ —Jody watches Dean Winchester’s body language go soft and hipshot, his shoulders pulling back under his red flannel. He licks his full lips in a quick pink flick and both his thumbs hook into the belt loops of his jeans. “Um. _Hi_ ,” he says.

At a squeak.

Then he starts clearing his throat awkwardly into the side of his fist.

Donna elbows her, hard, whispering “Eh? Eh?”

Okay, so… Jody’s gaydar lost to Donna’s on this one, Dean’s almost definitely not straight.

“Ow,” Jody complains.

“ _Shhhh_ ,” Donna answers, as if _she_ wasn’t the one who jabbed _Jody_.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Castiel growls. Like—actually growls, his voice like thunder, or like an old engine. Huh. Donna _said_ it was weird and raspy, but Jody’s brought in three-pack-a-day smokers who didn’t sound like that.

Her ‘oh, huh’ reaction is nothing like Dean’s, though. Dean’s whole body language snaps rigid and tall, his head coming back like he got belted in the chin. Both his hands flare at his sides, and even though Jody has a long career of trying to figure out what big tall men who make unexpected movements are going to do, she has _no_ idea what Dean’s going to do next—

Then Dean blurts out, wide-eyed, “Holy shit, you’re _James Novak._ ”

That’s so unexpected that Jody thinks all _three_ of them blink.

‘James?’

It’s Castiel that leans forward into Dean’s personal space, though, not away, lifting his chin in a sharp jerk—like he’s trying to intimidate him? A guy who’s got inches and _pounds_ on him? Not that Jody doesn’t know how to do that—heck, she spends half her life doing that—but tipping over forward on his toes isn’t really the way to get good space.

But Dean’s eyes go even wider. His lips part.

(Yeah, the way he’s looking right now isn’t ‘intimidated.’)

“Who are you?” Castiel gravels. “What do you want?”

That voice, though. Jody wishes she could borrow that voice. _Man_ , what she could do with it.

“I, uh, I…” Dean shuffles his feet back and forth, but he doesn’t back away. “Shit. Sorry, I, uh—I’m Dean, I live down there,” he flaps a hand vaguely in their direction, towards the cul-de-sac’s corner. But he doesn’t turn, and he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the neighbor in front of him.

Castiel stares at him. “You live with the sheriffs?”

“No, I…” Dean scratches his head with his other hand, and Jody can almost see the blaze of heat that’s starting to rise on his cheeks, now in the early evening light. His ears are flaming. “No, past that, I, uh.” He seems to realize he’s still _flapping_ his other hand and drops it to his side. “I just, um. I just wanted to see if you had any cumin.”

Okay, this is just so awkward, and now Jody feels bad that she didn’t stop this. Dean’s _not_ like this. He’s handsome and he knows it and he’s not afraid to be so. He’s charming and smooth and a talker, he bops his head to his music even before he’s started playing it in the car. He’s a giant ray of silly sunshine, and he’s managed to get a smile out of _Alex_.

And he’s standing on their neighbor’s stoop looking about _twelve_ , now. And shuffling his feet again like he’s admitting to knocking over his mailbox rather than just coming over to ask for some spices.

“Uffda,” Donna mutters.

“Yes, you should be ashamed,” Jody agrees.

But Castiel’s not saying anything, just looking into Dean’s face for way, _way_ too long like there’s something he’s seeing there that the rest of them aren’t. (Other than the fact that Dean’s too gorgeous for any one damned human being.)

“You called me ‘James Novak,’” he finally says.

Dean flinches. “Yeah, uh, I…” he’s mumbling, now, “I love your books. But you read your own audiobooks, man, you know? You’ve just got a helluva… anyway, I, uh, recognized your voice.” He’s backing away, now, shoulders tucked, and now Jody feels like she’s going to have to make _him_ cookies. Or get Alex to do it, because Jody’s really not good at it but Alex makes a mean ginger molasses. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a creepy fan, I just… I didn’t know you lived here.”

Donna’s hand clamps tight on Jody’s arm when Dean backs away a little too quickly—he stumbles, and almost takes a backward header right off the edge of the stairs.

But Castiel lunges forward to grab at him, his right hand clamping hard on Dean’s left shoulder and keeping him from losing his balance. When he twists sideways to pull Dean back upwards, that’s when Jody, for the first time, really catches a glimpse of his left arm.

Or what there _isn’t_ of his left arm. Castiel’s left sleeve is pinned above the elbow.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Donna’s little “Oh…” beside her means that even though Donna actually _met_ the man, and Jody’s _very_ sure her Donna tried harder than anyone else to try and get to know him before giving up… she probably didn’t know either.

“Shit,” Dean gasps, low and embarrassed. “Shit. Thanks. Good catch. I’m sorry, I… I’m _sorry_.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I just…” he shrugs one shoulder and trails off.

Dean doesn’t leave, though. Neither of them do.

As far as Jody can tell, Dean never glances at Castiel’s empty sleeve.

Finally, after another silence that’s long enough that even _Donna’s_ starting to squirm and Jody thinks she might have somehow swallowed a prune, Castiel says, careful, so soft that Jody finds herself straining a little towards the window to hear it, “I, um. I might have some cumin. I’ll look for it. Do you want to come in?”

Dean’s eyes go a little wider, and he scuffs the heel of his boot against the step, but the smile that’s starting to wink around his lips is small and shy and hopeful in a way she’s definitely never seen on him. Now Jody just kind of wants to pat his fool pretty head. “I, um, is that okay? I’ll trade you, if you find it. Bowl of my own chili recipe.”

“Oh. That sounds good,” Castiel says, with interest, and he turns to let Dean into his house.

(Both she and Donna launch themselves sideways so that when he turns, he’s not looking _straight_ into their window.)

When they turn back, Castiel’s door has closed behind both of them.

“Did you know—” Donna starts, sitting back properly down on the couch

“No.” Jody swings over and sits down heavily on the old, worn cushions. He’s lived here for more than a _year_. And now she feels really, _really_ bad for the fact she always kind of judged their next-door-neighbor for never having decorations up, and paying to get his lawn and hedges taken care of, the way they have to keep their lawns neat for the homeowner association rules.

“ _Uffda_ ,” Donna sighs, leaning against her shoulder, and Jody can’t help but agree with that.

Nothing, but _nothing_ keeps Donna down for long, though. Because the look on her face when she turns back to Jody is, well. Anyone who thinks Donna Hanscum can’t look smug has never seen her either holding a gun or even marginally successful in playing matchmaker.

(Jody’s seen both, thank you very much.)

Donna _doesn’t_ say what she’s looking for—she just stares at the side of Jody’s face with the _look_. Then, finally, she chirps, “James Novak, isn’t he that guy who writes all those mysteries? The ones you see in airports’n’such. He’s famous, I thought. You think…?”

Jody wouldn’t know much about that, but that’s not what Donna’s aiming for anyway. Because the hopeful little look on Dean’s face as he got invited in just about spoke whole _libraries_ about just how well Donna Hanscum can, sometimes, read people.

“Yeah, Donna,” Jody finally sighs, and reaches out to wrap an arm around her and pull her in against Jody’s shoulder. “You did good. You did _really_ good.”

She just hopes Dean remembered to turn off the stove.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Mmph--not really happy with this, but tomorrow is another day...? (Oh no. That means I have to write tomorrow again. Oh noooo.)


End file.
